


Lying Awake (Intent on Tuning in on You)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Ready Player One (2018), Ready Player One - Ernest Cline
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Person, Fluff, Get together fic, Implied/Minor Transphobia, M/M, Multi, Romance, The AU no one else asked for, Trans Female Character, Trans Samantha Cook, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Wade loves working at Oasis—an 80s memorabilia-video-music store—but he loves it even more once he meets Samantha.





	Lying Awake (Intent on Tuning in on You)

**Author's Note:**

> hooo boy okay. so. this idea struck me, and i thought to myself "hey this will be a fun little oneshot to write, shouldn't take me more than a day." well, almost a full week later (after so many massive edits and a LOT of yelling) here we are—this was fun, but definitely not little, haha. major thanks to hannah (cathect) for beta'ing, as always! it wasn't an easy feat this time around. 
> 
> tagging this in both the film and book tags bc it's really a blending of both characterizations (and the appearances for all the characters are taken from the film). also technically an everybody lives, nobody dies AU. 
> 
> ahh, i think that's enough rambling from me. enjoy!

I look up when the bell above the door chimes. I sit up straighter in a hurry and try to look at least a little busy.

Not that it matters; the customer who walked in is a regular. I don’t actually know his name, because he only ever pays with cash or puts his purchases on his account, which is under the name I-R0k. I just know he’s in a lot. He gives me a sneering ‘sup nod, then carries on with his usual perusal of the store. I wait a second to see if anyone else might come in, then I brace my elbows on the counter once more.

I like my job, I really do.

Working in an 80s memorabilia-slash-movie-slash-music store might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s definitely mine.

The decor really takes you back in time (which I happen to enjoy): the floors are a black-and-white checkered linoleum, worn down by customers footsteps. The spots by the door and the space around the front counter are both the most scuffed parts. The aisles are lined up just _right_ along the checker pattern, so that it doesn’t make you dizzy trying to walk around. On the right side of the store are our DVDs for sale (with a couple VHS tapes thrown in, just for fun); on the left are racks that hold all of our music, split by CDs versus vinyl.

Memorabilia, stuff like action figures and other collectibles, line the walls of the shop. All the shelves are clear, except for the backs against the wall—those have a weird reflective background, something Jim really likes, I guess. Any section of the wall not covered by a shelf is plastered in posters: movies, music, old magazine clippings that Jim’s collected over the years. The walls are so covered, you can barely see the aged, deep teal paint that covered the store first.

Not to mention, I get to talk shop—that is, 80s trivia and the like—with other nerds, whether they’re customers or coworkers. I get to regale younger kids about the incredible era of films, movies like _WarGames_ and _Ladyhawke_. There’s a TV hooked up in one corner so we can put on films if we want, even. But, really, I love the music. Hands down, one of the best parts of working at Oasis is the music. I get to put on basically anything I want, as long as it came out in the 80s. The speakers stashed in various corners of the store carry the sound, even at a low volume.

So yeah, I pretty much love my job.

I just _really_ hate this shift.

It’s early afternoon on a Tuesday: one of the deadest times of the week. Pretty much all of our customers are either sleeping, at work, or at school. It means the only sort of people coming in at this time are people like the regular in here now: silent, content to shop on their own, unapproachable. I learned the hard way which Oasis regulars do and don’t want to be bothered.

Sighing, I pull my phone from my back pocket. Nothing new there on any of my regular apps, no surprise, but it gives my hands something to do. I’ve got a couple more hours before Aech gets in to take over part of the shift, and I’ve got to keep busy somehow. It’s not like my bosses mind. As long as customers that _do_ want help get it, and as long as every customer is happy, Og and Jim are happy.

I troll some vintage collectible sites—even though there’s no way I can afford the cooler shit, not with what I make—until that gets old, too. I scroll aimlessly through tumblr for a bit before another customer comes in.

I startle again, dropping my phone onto the countertop, and scramble to stand up straight once more. A quick glance around tells me the regular is still hanging out, off in a far corner; at the door of the shop stands a new customer. Someone I know I’ve never seen before.

I’d definitely remember _her_.

“Welcome to Oasis!” I half-shout, belatedly. Her eyes snap to me, and she flashes a polite smile. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?” I ask as I slip my phone back into my jeans.

She shakes her head, and her red hair bounces around her shoulders. “No thanks,” she calls back. Her voice carries easily over the quiet store, over the softly playing soundtrack ( _Dirty Dancing,_ RCA Records, 1987).

“I’ll let you know if I do.” She adds. She tucks her denim jacket tighter around herself and I find myself wishing I could see the details of the patches smattered across the material. Her leggings are solid black, and I can’t quite see the design of the shirt, but it looks faded and vintage.

I give her a thumbs-up. “Awesome, my name’s Wade!”

Then, to keep myself from ogling her any longer, I busy myself with the computer by the register. I’m not really doing anything and I feel like that’s painfully obvious, but it’s better than standing around like a dope.

I check through our email real quick, unsurprised to see nothing new. I open a document I’d been working on earlier this morning (a list of movies to add to the store’s stock) and stare at it blankly. I know there’s more to add, but none of the titles are coming to me.

I’m still staring at the document when nails tapping on the countertop catch my attention. It’s the girl from before, and her hands are empty.

“How can I help?” I ask immediately.

If I seem overeager, she graciously doesn’t mention it. She just breezes by it and asks, “I’m looking for some movies for an 80s night.” I nod along as she speaks. “What’s something more obscure?” Her expectant stare flits down to look at my Duran Duran tee, and she grins for a split second.

I grin back; I _love_ my job.

“What genre are we talking, here?” I ask as I lock the computer and stand in front of her. Her red hair is deliberately swept over her right eye, but I focus on her freckles instead. Something tells me she’d rather I didn’t draw attention to her bangs and their careful placement.

“Anything,” she counters. “I just want something I probably haven’t seen yet.”

I hum and tap my chin, mostly for show. The girl rolls her eyes at me.

“Well,” I start off slowly, “If you want horror, there’s always _April Fool’s Day_. Corny, but fun.” I scan the nearby shelves, and then the ones further back, waiting for other ideas to come to me. “ _Gymkata_ isn’t bad, highly recommended by one of my coworkers.”

She watches me intently as I rattle off a few other titles, and once she’s satisfied she holds up a hand to silence me. Then, “Thanks, Wade. I’ll check some of those out.” Even though it’s abrupt, she’s not unkind. Just sure of what she wants.

I playfully salute her and she laughs, and I barely manage to keep my grin in check till she’s started to wander again.

Eventually, the regular from earlier makes his way up to the counter. He puts half the charge on his account and pays for the rest in cash. He huffs and puffs over not being able to put the _whole_ balance on his account, no matter how many times I tell him he’s hit his fifty-dollar limit.

By the time I finish ringing him up and he’s gone, I’ve lost sight of the girl. Oasis isn’t exactly big, but there’s enough shelves—all about the same height as her, too—that it’s easy to misplace customers.

I’m still sort-of searching for her when Aech suddenly claps me on the shoulder. I jump and bang my knee against the counter’s edge. I face her and make a face, clearly asking _“what the hell?”_ The throbbing of my knee fades fast, but I still glare at her.

“Jeez, man,” she says with a laugh. “What’s got you so worked up?”

For a second, I consider playing it cool and claiming a lack of sleep instead. But Aech really is my best friend, and I know even though she’ll tease me, she’ll understand too. I do a quick double-check to make sure the girl isn’t actually around before rounding on Aech again.

“There was… a girl.” I say, following it quickly with, “She was beautiful.”

Aech raises an eyebrow. “Really now?” She looks around too, both mocking me and not. Aech is gay, it’s no surprise to me she’d be interested in the mystery girl too. “When did she leave?”

“No idea,” I say with a shrug. “I totally missed it, cuz I was helping someone else.”

Aech looks at me, unimpressed. “Dude. Tell me you _at least_ got her name!”

Slowly, I shake my head. Aech groans.

“I know!” I say. “She was looking for obscure movies.”

Aech’s eyes light up and we spend a few minutes talking about what I suggested. Aech teases me for some of my choices, makes some suggestions of her own that I tuck away to remember later. No one else comes in for the rest of my shift, and Aech and I spend the time talking and teasing each other.

By the time I go to leave, I still haven’t gotten the girl off my mind.

“Go be a lovesick puppy somewhere else,” Aech scolds as she shoos me from behind the counter.

“I’m not a lovesick puppy! She just seems really cool!” I insist.

I know Aech is mocking me to herself as I head for the door, but it doesn’t bother me. I _know_ it’s weird to be so hung up on someone I only talked to for a couple minutes. There’s just something about her!

I shake off the distracted feelings as I step into the chilly, late afternoon air. Hands shoved deep in my pockets, I set off toward my apartment and wonder if the girl will come back to Oasis.

**—**

When I go in for my next shift a few days later, Aech is being the counter grinning wider than I’ve ever seen.

“What?” I ask cautiously. I toss my messenger bag underneath the counter and lean against the wooden edge, facing Aech. She just keeps grinning, a stray chuckle escaping now and then. “What?” I ask again, a little more urgently.

“She came in.” Aech finally says.

My eyes widen. “What? Really?” Unable to help myself, I look around the store and Aech lets out a bellowing laugh.

“She’s not here right now, you dork. She came in yesterday.” Aech drawls out her sentences slowly; she knows she’s got me hooked on her every word. “Asked about obscure movies again, I gave her some of _my_ recommendations.”

The excitement finally wanes and I think to ask. “How did you know it was her?”

“She got _April Fool’s Day_ and _Gymkata_ , instead of my vastly superior suggestions.”

I laugh, a little breathless. “She’s got good taste, I guess.”

Aech aims a playful kick at my shins for the jibe. “She looked surprised to see me, too.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Like _maybe_ she was expecting someone else,” Aech looks me up and down pointedly before turning just as the bell above the door chimes. I leave her to greeting the customer—a newbie, she’s better with newbies than I am—and mull her words over instead.

The girl had come back in, _maybe_ looking for me. She’s rented the movies I suggested to her, even though Aech does have really good taste in movies. I know none of this really means anything, but it doesn’t stop me from grinning like a lunatic.

“I’m gonna make you work in the back if you keep makin’ that face,” Aech scolds as she returns to the counter. The newbie customer is browsing shelves, a list in hand, and Aech crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you wanna know her name?”

“You got her name?”

Aech rolls her eyes. “I saw it when she paid.”

Duh. Of course.

I consider the offer but shake my head. “Nah. If she comes in, I’ll just ask her then.”

Aech laughs. “Sure you will.”

**—**

I get my chance the next day.

I open up Oasis at 10am, and I’ve been loitering behind the counter for ten minutes when the bell chimes. Not that unusual for a Saturday morning; the crowds start rolling in earlier on weekends than any other time of the week. I look up from my phone and open my mouth to greet the customer like usual, and manage to stumble over my words only a little bit when I see who it is:

“M-morning! How’s it, uh, how’s it going?”

The girl stares at me and even though she doesn’t reply right away, I can see the quirk of her lips even from a distance. Today she’s got a baggy blue cardigan that hangs down to her thighs, coupled with cuffed jeans. This time, I can see her shirt, and it only makes me more interested in her: a faded Van Halen shirt, black and splattered with bleach stains.

“Looking for some tunes,” she answers eventually. “I’ll let you know if I need anything, Wade.” She lingers on my name, and I find myself only able to grin dopily back.

I force myself to actually get stuff done instead of just waiting around and hoping that the girl might come ask for suggestions. I duck into the back to grab a new box of DVDs and start unpacking it behind the counter. I rest the box on the stool and once the tape is cut, I stack out the different movies, sorting them by genre then title.

It’s tedious work, especially part where I have to log the units into the computer, but it’s easy. I’m deep into the work when a soft cough catches my attention. I don’t _quite_ drop the DVD I’m holding, but I definitely fumble it, and nearly topple over some of the stacks in the process.

“Hey,” I say once I’m sure nothing is going to fall.

“Hey yourself,” she shoots back. She leans an elbow on the counter, mindful of the piles of DVDs. “I liked the movies.”

I manage to contain my delight, but only barely. “Yeah? Aech mentioned you came by and got ‘em.  Glad they were worth it.”

She grins at me. “Thought it might be worth it to ask your opinion on some music.”

“Still looking for obscure?”

A shrug. “Not necessarily. Just something I’ll like.”

“And something you haven’t heard before.” I echo her words from last time.

Her eyes glint with something akin to challenge. “Exactly.”

“Okay.” I finally come out from behind the counter and motion for her to follow. “Vinyl or CD?”

“CD, today. If I bring home more vinyl my roommates might kill me.”

I laugh. “Got it.”

I take a turn and lead her to the CD aisle. “I’m really into They Might Be Giants’ self-titled album right now. 1986, Bar/None Records. Fans call it _The Pink Album_ , on account of the cover. So, if anyone asks, call it _The Pink Album_.”

I bite back more trivia on the album before I start to ramble. I reach out to where I know the CD sits, all while looking over my shoulder at the girl. I pass along the coloring-book-esque case, then turn to face the selection as she looks over the track listing.

“Or,” I say, as an afterthought. I pluck a different case from the shelving. “ _Everywhere at Once_ is another one I’ve had on repeat for a while now. 1983, Geffen Records.”

When I look back, she’s smiling, a sort of quirky, surprised look. Like she doesn’t quite believe me. I shrug a little sheepishly.

“I like knowing those sorta things.”

She laughs. “I bet you kill on trivia nights.”

I nod. “Between me and Aech, none of the other teams stand a chance.”

She takes _Everywhere at Once_ from me, too. “I think these’ll do it for me, Wade.”

I let her lead us back to the counter, and I’m relieved to see we still have the store to ourselves. No other customers in sight, and there’s a while to go before Daito comes in. It gives me a little more time with her. I don’t have to worry about trying to ring her up and help someone else at the same time.

I walk back around the counter and clear a space amongst the DVDs. She passes over the CDs and I start to ring them up, but before I can tell her the total, she starts to speak.

“I’m Samantha, by the way.”

God, If Aech could see me now. She’d be laughing her ass off.

“It’s good to meet you, Samantha,” I say, mostly so I can test her name in my mouth. “You’ve got good taste.” I wave the CDs around to emphasis my words.

Her lips purse, amused and unimpressed at the same time. It’s then that I notice her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, but a large chunk of it is still artfully swept to cover her right eye. She flicks a stray strand out of her eyes without dislodging the part that keeps her face covered; it’s impressive, in a weird way.

“That’ll be ten dollars,” I say, belated. She nods and passes over her card. I run it through the machine, and the damn thing is so old it takes a few minutes to process. So, I make small talk. “You new to the area? Or just new to Oasis?”

Samantha leans her hip against the counter. “Both,” she says. “I moved here from Vancouver. Needed a change of scenery, Portland fit the bill.”

I nod along. “I moved here from Ohio, same kind of thing.” Sort of. I wouldn’t mind telling her more, or hearing more about her story, over dinner maybe? But as cool as that sounds, I can’t make my mouth form the words.

Finally, the machine spits out a receipt, and I pass that and her card back to her. I bag up the CDs and hand those off, too.

“See you around, Samantha” I say. I linger on her name the same way she did earlier.

She’s already walking away, but the wave she throws over her shoulder makes my knees weak. “See you, Wade!”

**—**

I have Sunday off, and Aech does too. We already agreed earlier in the week to have a gaming-movie marathon at her place, since it’s not that often we have the same days off. I show up with my arms full of movies and soda, knowing Aech probably already has the usual gaming system set up. I knock with a light kick to the door, and it swings open almost immediately.

“About time,” Aech teases.

I roll my eyes as she takes some of the soda from my arms, easing the load. “I’m _maybe_ two minutes late.”

“Two minutes we could’a been playing, man.” Her voice carries from her kitchen. I don’t bother replying as I head to the living room-slash-dining room, and let the movies fall into the spare recliner. Like I suspected, the gaming rig is already set up. She’s got the GameCube hooked up, with _Midway Arcade Treasures 3_ on the screen. “ _Rampage_?” She asks before sitting on her own beanbag.

I nod and fall into the other beanbag in front of the TV.

We play for a while and switch the games around a few times before Aech looks over at me expectantly.

“So. Daito said you looked dopey all day yesterday.”

I blush. “Did he now?”

Aech grins her Cheshire cat grin. “Did Samantha come in?”

“How did you know I got her name?” I shoot back.

Aech shrugs. “I had faith in you.”

I laugh, because she definitely didn’t have faith in me on Sunday. I look at the controller in my hands as I speak. “Yeah, she came in. Got a couple CDs, per my recommendation.”

“Shocker.”

“And she introduced herself before paying. Like she didn’t want… I dunno. It was nice.”

Aech snorts, not unkind; she’s more amused than anything. “You’re _smitten_ , dude. You barely know this girl.”

I fall back into the beanbag and let the controller drop onto the carpet. “I know.” I hide my face in my hands. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t know anything about her. But I feel like I do, ya know?”

“Nope. But you’ve always been a weird one.”

“Thanks, Aech.”

She punches my shoulder. “I’m just playing. I get what you mean. Just, don’t go too crazy with this, alright? She’s just a girl, you’re just a guy. Nothing dramatic, please. I can’t handle it.”

I sit up a bit and pin her with a flat look. “You _love_ when I get into drama.”

Laughing, Aech says, “Well, yeah, but I don’t wanna clean up the fallout of whatever you’ve got going on. So, try not to have any fallout.”

I fall back again. “Right. No fallout.”

**—**

It’s hard to have any fallout when I don’t have Samantha’s number and she only seems to come into Oasis sporadically. After Saturday, the next time I work is Tuesday again, and she doesn’t come in. I try not to be disappointed, but Aech calls me on it when we game that night. I work Wednesday through Friday, too, and she doesn’t come in those days either.

It doesn’t surprise me, exactly. Oasis is a niche shop, and technically a lot of the plainer things (like DVDs and CDs) you can get off Amazon or something, if you really wanted. Plus, our selection doesn’t change _that_ often, only when Og or Jim want it to (meaning when Aech and I wear one of them down). There’s really not a reason for most people to come in to Oasis more than once a week. Really.

Still, by the time my day off on Saturday rolls around, I’m feeling sort of… bereft.

Which is exactly the thing Aech wanted me to avoid, but I can’t seem to help it. Something about Samantha is just undeniably interesting. Even though she’s taken my suggestions so far, she’s clearly into the 80s enough to even come by Oasis. That alone is great; I think we could be awesome friends, because something tells me she’s probably a wicked gamer, too.

I’m thinking about all of this nonsense when I literally _run_ into her at the local coffeeshop.

I’m coming through the door, lost in my own world, right as she’s leaving. Thankfully, all that’s in her hands is a cookie and she just clutches it closer to her chest as we collide. We both stumble a bit, and I reach out to steady her.

She tugs a headphone from her ear. “Wade?” She’s got a beanie tucked over her bright hair, and sunglasses hide her eyes. Her jeans are baggy, clearly too long judging by the way they’re rolled up to her ankles. She’s wearing the same cardigan she wore when she bought the CDs, except it’s buttoned up this time. Clearly comfortable clothes, but in that sort of artful way.

“Hey, Samantha,” I say as we shuffle out of the way of the door. It’s little chilly outside but I don’t mind waiting. My bomber jacket keeps me warm enough, mostly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” she says at the same moment she holds out her earbud. Surprised, I lean closer before grinning wide.

_“Don’t, don’t, don’t let’s start, this is the worst part.”_

“Nice,” I say approvingly. “You like it then?”

She nods. “I already liked them as a band. It’s been ages since I listened to this album though.” She hesitates a moment, then adds. “Makes me think of my mom.” She says it nervously, uncertain.

“That’s cool! I wish my parents had liked They Might Be Giants,” I say with a laugh. “They weren’t into anything cool like that, really.” I shrug, then ask, “What’re you up to?” I try to steer the conversation away from parents, since it clearly makes Samantha uncomfortable.

She relaxes at the change of subject. “Just running errands. Grabbing a snack.” She holds up her cookie as evidence. “No work today?”

“Nah, I worked all week. I live close to here so I was stopping by for some hot chocolate, maybe some food.”

An awkward silence blooms after my words, and I realize there’s nothing else to really say. I open my mouth to give an awkward goodbye and at the same moment, Samantha starts to speak.

After a brief pause, in unison, “You go—” “Sorry, go ahead—”

We stop and grin at each other. Her hand comes up brush hair from her eyes, but the same chunk as before still falls back into place. Between her hair and the sunglasses, most of her face is hidden. On some people, it would look goofy; on her, it’s just cute.

“I was just gonna say,” Samantha speaks when it’s clear I’m waiting for her. “Is Oasis hiring?”

My eyes widen. “Uh, not specifically. But I could ask Og and Jim. They love having people on staff, as long as those people are, y’know. Into the 80s.”

Samantha laughs. “I think I’ve got that covered.”

“I think you do too. I’ll ask next time I’m in, which is tomorrow. Aech would put in a good word, too. She thinks you’re great.” The words come faster than I can think, and I realize I’m a little rambly.

Samantha looks surprised by the admission about Aech, but no less pleased. “That’d be cool, thanks. Uh, why don’t I give you my number, and you can let me know how it turns out?”

I nod, and then we’re pulling out our phones together. She gives me her number, and we grin awkwardly at each other as I plug the info into my phone. I shoot her a text ( _hey! it’s wade!_ ) and she tucks her phone away after saving my contact info.

“Good seeing you,” she says as she starts to walk away.

“You too, Samantha. I’ll text you tomorrow!”

She waves as she walks away, still smiling at me. I stand there long after she’s gone before I realize I’m cold, and I still haven’t bothered going inside the coffeeshop.

**—**

I have to wait until my first break the next day to call Og. Thankfully, he picks up on the first ring.

“Wade, how’s it hanging?”

Even though he and Jim are both old enough to my parents, they still talk like they’re teenagers. It’s pretty funny.

“Hey, Og. Listen, there’s someone who’s interested in working here. I told her we aren’t really looking, but that I’d mention it to you.” I explain to him what Samantha’s bought so far, what I think of her, and what Aech seems to think of her.

By the end of it, I realize Og hasn’t really said anything and I’ve just steamrolled my way through the conversation. I’ve gotta stop doing that.

“Do you think she’d be a good fit?”

I nod, then remember Og can’t see me. “Yeah, definitely.”

“And it’s not just cuz you think she’s cute?”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “No, not—not cuz of that.” I rub at my eyes. “Jeez, Og.”

Og laughs. “Gotta get my kicks somewhere, don’t I?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Have her fill out a resume, and let her know Jim or I will call her sometime in the next week or so, alright?”

“Awesome, thanks Og!” I don’t quite reign in the excitement in my tone. I hang up on Og’s knowing laughter.

It isn’t like he has any room to talk. The whole reason he and Jim know each other is because Og thought Jim was… cute. Which is weird to say about your bosses, but regardless. Og _really_ doesn’t have any room to talk. Even if their story is pretty storybook.

I have a few minutes left in my break, so I send Samantha a quick text.

> **> >To: samantha**  
>  _hey! og said to have you fill out a resume and bring it in, then he’ll give you a call. well he said he would or jim would, but jim hates talking to people. so it’ll be og._
> 
> **> >To: samantha  
>  ** _og is cool, you’ll like him_

I don’t get a response before I have to go back out to the floor, and for the rest of my shift my phone practically burns a hole in my pocket.

**—**

I don’t hear from Samantha until Monday morning. The text comes through while I’m sleeping in.

> **< <From: samantha**  
>  _thanks wade! i’ll let you know how it turns out :-)_

I stare at that smiley face longer than really necessary. I flop back onto my pillows, phone clutched in my hand, as I consider responding. It’s been a couple hours since she sent it, and it makes me wonder what she does that has her up before eight on a Monday morning. Work? School? Annoying roommates?

I roll onto my side and reopen the message.

> **> >To: samantha** _  
> you’ll do great. og will love you, i’m sure of it. maybe brush up on some 80s trivia just to be safe. he tends to whip out impromptu competitions_

Her response is back quicker than I expected.

> **< <From: samantha** _  
> i’ll be sure to do that. any particular type of trivia? or just all of it_
> 
> **> >To: samantha  
>  **_all of it. he quizzed aech the other day on rush songs just for fun. and at my interview i had to give a history about the game_ adventure
> 
> **> >To: samantha  
>  ** _him and jim are weird, but really great_
> 
> **< <From: samantha  
>  ** _they sound like it. i’ve gotta go, but i’ll keep you posted. thanks again!_

I send back a smiley face and thumbs-up emoji before forcing myself to set my phone aside. Finally, I sit up and busy myself with being somewhat of a productive human being today. I shower and eat, and eventually find myself clutching my phone again.

Instead of messaging Samantha, I text Aech.

> **> >To: aech** _  
> samantha is applying to work @ oasis_
> 
> **< <From: aech  
>  ** _oh god. i might have to watch you two make eyes at each other IN PERSON? kill me now_

I roll my eyes.

> **< <From: aech**  
>  _kidding. she seems cool, it’ll be nice to have another girl around._
> 
> **> >To: aech** _  
> i told her you thought she was cool_

Aech and I text for a little while longer before she has to go in for her shift, and I have more lazing around to do. When I’m not occupied with some gaming or a show or a book, my thoughts keep drifting back to Samantha. I’m still curious about what she does outside of going to Oasis and the coffeeshop. I wanna know; not in a creepy way. Just… in a way.

**—**

I don’t hear from Samantha for a couple days, and at Aech’s advice I don’t message her first. I’m too nervous to even try, anyway, but it’s good to have Aech on my side. She usually has pretty good ideas. She also has more experience with girls than I do—both because she _is_ a girl, and because she dates them—and I go to her for help often.

Or, I would, if I ever really had reason to. Up until Samantha, I haven’t had a crush on someone in years.

“Hey, loverboy.” Aech snaps me out of my daze. “Can you go get the new shipment from the back? I think there are some game cartridges in there and I wanna take a look.”

I nod and step into the back and dig around to find the box she means. It’s not hard, but by the time I bring it back out to the counter, she’s off helping a customer. Just like I did with the movies before, I prop the box up on the stool and cut the tape open with one of the many dull box cutters hanging around. I start to unpack the games and lay them out flat because they don’t stack quite right.

“You gonna ask her out?” Aech asks, startling me into knocking a couple games to the floor. I glare at her as I duck down to gather them. “I mean, you’re into her. Obviously.”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly as I stand. “I want to. But it might be weird, especially when she gets the job here. What if we break up? That’s awkward.” I pass some of the games along to Aech, and she studies them before placing them in what I know are her ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ piles. “And I don’t even know if she likes me back. I wanna think that she does…” I trail off with a shrug.

Aech nods along as I speak. “I get that, man, I get that.” Then, after a pause, “I say go for it.”

I stop unpacking games and look at her. “Really?”

Aech grins at me and winks. “Really.”

**—**

> **< <From: samantha**  
>  _got the job! you were right, og seems like a great guy._
> 
> **> >To: samantha  
>  ** _knew you would :-) did he quiz you?_

**< <Incoming Call from ‘samantha’**

I answer the call despite my surprise. “Hey!”

_“Hey!”_ She’s off like a rocket, immediately diving in to her recap. _“He totally quizzed me. He gave me quotes and I needed to name the movie. I think, what was his name? The other guy, I think he was in the back feeding quotes to Og.”_

I laugh. “That’d be Jim. Did he talk to you directly at all?”

_“Oh no, it was all Og.”_

“That sounds right. Like I said before, Jim is really awkward. I’ve only spoken to him once or twice.” I get up when a ding sounds from my kitchen. “I knew you’d get the job. When do you start?”

_“This Wednesday, a closing shift. Og said it’s normally pretty slow so it’ll be a good first shift.”_

It _is_ normally pretty slow on Wednesdays. On most weeknights, really. But that’s not what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about the fact that, “I work that night.”

Samantha laughs. _“I know. Og mentioned it.”_

“Oh.” I feel myself blushing and I busy myself with getting my food out of the microwave. “That’s awesome.”

_“Sound more excited, why don’t you,”_ she taunts.

“I am!” I say, a little too quick. “It’ll be great. And Wednesdays are super slow. Weeknights in general are. But not as slow as mornings.” I bite my tongue on further rambling.

_“I’m excited,”_ Samantha responds. _“It’ll be a nice change.”_

“What do you do now?” I finally force myself to ask. I carry my plate of pizza pockets back into the bedroom-slash-living room and fall onto my bed, careful not to upend the plate.

_“I’m going to school part time, and working part time as an office temp. I hate it. It’s so boring.”_ Samantha sighs and there’s a soft thud, like she sat down on something cushy. _“I mean, money is money. But I hate doing something that feels like it’s sucking out my soul, you know?”_

“Yeah,” I say, even though I don’t totally know. “I did I.T. for a while. I wasn’t quite soul-sucking, but it did suck.”

Samantha laughs. _“I’m excited to work somewhere I give a shit about what’s happening.”_

“I’m probably biased but working at Oasis is definitely the best job I’ve ever had.”

We talk for a little while longer. I learn that Samantha is going for a bachelor’s degree in social sciences, and I love listening her talk about her classes. She tells me about some of her more annoying professors, and which classes she likes, and what assignments she ought to be doing right now. In turn, I tell her I graduated high school, and fibbed on an application to get the aforementioned I.T. job, before ending up at Oasis.

We talk until Samantha is yawning, and I’m catching it too.

_“I should get to bed. Class tomorrow. I’ll see you Wednesday?”_

“Definitely. Looking forward to it.”

It might just be wishful thinking, but I swear I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, _“goodnight, Wade.”_

**—**

Wednesday can’t come fast enough, so by the time it _does_ roll around, I’m antsy and anxious and restless. I go into Oasis around midday, and spend the first half of my shift just dazed, knowing that in a few hours I’d get to work with Samantha. Daito rolls his eyes at me and teases me up until Samantha shows up at five on the dot. Then, he shoots me a thumbs-up.

There’s quick introductions before Daito leaves and Samantha clocks on. By then, it’s pretty much dead as far as customers go. I spend some time explaining the organization of the store to Samantha, from an employee standpoint rather than a customer standpoint. She lets me talk her ear off for the first hour of her shift, though, until I eventually run out of things to ramble about.

“So, what do you do when there’s no customers?” Her hands are shoved into the pockets of her denim jacket; it’s a different one from the one she wore the first time she came into the store. This one is a darker denim, with tears and rips throughout. Between that and her plaid skirt, it’s all very punk, and I want to tell her so.

“We unpack stuff from the back, or check the store’s email. It’s the only way Jim really gets in touch with us. Og will usually just call.” I lead her back over to the counter. “If there’s really nothing to do, I might put on a movie, or just mess around on my phone. Jim and Og don’t mind.”

Samantha hums as she listens. “Can we put on any movie?”

“PG-13 rating or less, usually. Which isn’t hard to do, with 80s movies.”

She laughs and her hair bounces. “Yeah, that’s true.” After we’ve walked a couple laps of the store and we’ve ducked into the pack so I can show her where packages end up before being unpacked, we end up back at the counter. “So, Wade, tell me something about yourself.”

“Uh.” I shrug. She leans against the counter and I lean beside her. “I mean, I told you pretty much everything the other night. I’m pretty boring.”

She stares at me with a scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t believe that.” She tilts her head and bites her lower lip, watching me like she’s considering a puzzle. “There’s gotta be something at least _a little_ interesting about you.”

I gesture to the store. “My love of the 80s?”

“That just makes you a nerd,” she says affectionately. “But it is pretty cool.”

I grin at her. “What about you?” I counter, even though I already think she’s plenty interesting. “What’s something about you that’s interesting?”

Samantha taps her chin dramatically, sort of like I did the day we first met. “I can recite the entirety of _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ from memory,” she starts. Then she stares at me again. “You probably can too.”

“Guilty,” I agree.

She tsks, not like she’s disappointed but just in a fond, friendly way. “I guess I’m not that interesting either,” she concedes.

“Bullshit.” I shoot back.

She just smiles at me, soft and private, and for once, there’s no awkward silence. The conversation ends there, smooth and simple.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful. I walk her through ringing someone up on the register, but that’s hardly rocket science. We have a whopping two customers from six to close, and between the two of us we make quick work of closing up the shop.

Standing outside the door after it’s locked, we both hesitate.

“Listen,” I say at the same time she starts to say, “Wade.”

I motion for her to go, but she shakes her head and mimes zipping her lips shut. “Listen,” I start again. “I really like you, and I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna go out sometime?”

Samantha’s eyes widen. “You really like me? You barely know me.” She’s quick to reply but her voice isn’t sharp or mean. Just plain, and surprised.

“I know, but I like what I know about you, right now. And I wanna know more. If that makes sense.” I shift uneasily from foot to foot. I really don’t have a lot of experience with this, and I feel like it shows.

“Wade, I think you’re a great guy, but I just don’t know… If that’s the best idea.” She doesn’t let me reply. “I think you’re great, I really do. But we’re working together now, and we really don’t know each other _that_ well yet.” She looks as anxious as I feel, even though she speaks levelly.

“Why don’t we just take it slow and be friends first?” Her tone is firm, not really pleading so much as commanding.

I nod back. “Sure, of course. I’d like that,” and I would, and I know when I smile at her it’s genuine. She seems to relax. “Sorry, that was awkward.” I am sorry, even if I can feel the embarrassment and disappointment settling in my gut.

She waves off my apology. “It’s fine. So not a big deal.” There’s a brief, heavy silence before she speaks again. “I was gonna say, earlier, maybe you, me, and Aech could get together? I don’t know when I’ll be working with her, but I thought it might be fun for all three of us to go out, see a movie, or something.”

“She’d love that. I can set up a group text?”

Samantha beams back. “That’d be great, Wade.”

Another awkward pause, before we both start to take steps backwards, in opposite directions. “See you,” I say as I start to turn.

“Bye Wade!”

And then she’s gone, down the sidewalk away from me. I pull my phone out immediately to text Aech.

> **> >To: aech  
>  ** _asked her out, got turned down. she wants to do a movie night w/ the 3 of us. you game?_

**< <Incoming Call From ‘aech’**

“Hey, dude.”

_“She turned you down?”_

“Yeah, but I get why. She wants to take it slow. Be friends first.” I shrug as I walk. “Makes sense, right?”

_“Yeah, man, makes sense. Still sucks though. You good?”_

“She didn’t outright laugh in my face, and said we should be friends. I’m good.” I finally laugh, and my shoulders feel a little lighter. It’s true, I am good. I’m fine. “How about that movie night, though, you game?”

_“Oh you know it.”_

“Awesome, I’ll set up a group text so we can figure everything out.”

**—**

Turns out being friends with Samantha is amazing (not really a surprise). A lot of the time I don’t even think about the dating thing. The embarrassment still kind of stings, but she never makes fun of me for it (Aech does, frequently, but only when Samantha isn’t around). I still think she’s gorgeous, and funny, and interesting, and I still get sort of nervous and rambly around her, especially when she dresses up (she got me to go to a bar with her and Aech, it was my first time in a bar _ever_ ).

I learn about her birthmark—the one she hides with her hair. I know it’s called a port wine stain. But even after we’ve been friends for a couple weeks, Samantha still doesn’t wear her hair back. I’m actually impressed with all the way she has to wear her hair to keep it hidden.

But it’s all great. I have Aech and I have Samantha and it’s good. Awesome. Working with them both is fantastic, even though we can’t all three be scheduled together because we goof around too much. Aech and Samantha get along crazy well, too, and it’s just _right_ to see two of my friends being friends with each other.

“Hey, ace, you alive?” Samantha’s fingers snap in front of my face. “What do you want to eat?” She jerks her head at the waitress who’s waiting for me to order. Somehow, Samantha’s carefully parted hair doesn’t budge, still leaving most of her face covered. I blink when Samantha snaps her fingers in front of my face again, and scramble for the menu.

“Uh.” I look up at the waitress, then to Aech and Samantha who are both biting back laughter. “Today’s special? I’ll just take that.” I smile apologetically and hand the menu back to the waitress. She looks at me, skeptical, like she’s waiting for me to take it back.

When I don’t, she writes the order down on her pad before leaving with a, “I’ll have those right out for you three.”

“Sorry,” I tell Aech and Samantha. “Got distracted.”

“Clearly,” Aech snorts. “What’cha daydreaming about?”

I blush, and Aech’s laugh gets louder. I flip her off, and Samantha ends up giggling too. “What did you guys order?”

Aech got some sort of sandwich, and Samantha ordered a pizza. I have no idea what I ordered, but I figure I’m not too picky. It can’t be that bad, right?

Turns out, it _is_ that bad. Samantha and Aech _both_ take pictures of my saddened expression when the caesar salad, no croutons and light dressing, with a side of low fat chicken noodle soup is set in front of me.

I know for a fact they both post it on their Instagrams, even though I don’t have an account. I know without a doubt that when I go into work the next day, Daito is going to mock me endlessly, and he’ll probably have some choice jibes to pass along from his younger brother, Shoto.

I eat most of my salad, begrudgingly (the waitress does her best not to laugh at me when she brings by the checks). Aech cuts her sandwich into four pieces instead of two and gives me one; at one point Samantha holds out a slice of her pizza and declares, “you can have a _bite_. That’s it though.” I lean across the table and take a bite from the tip, nodding my head in thanks. When I offer any of my salad or soup, both girls burst into another fit of giggles.

As we leave the cafe, Samantha pulls up Instagram on her phone and shows me the picture she took. I look ridiculously sad, and I laugh at her caption—

> _he’s just a boy, sitting in front of a salad, asking it to be literally anything else, please_

I grin at her, then pull out my phone. I open it to the front-facing camera and hold it up, throwing an arm around Samantha’s shoulders and motioning Aech closer.

“I don’t have Instagram, but it can go on my blog.” I say, right before snapping the picture. It catches Aech with her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in laughter. Samantha has her hands thrown over her face, but her smile peaks between her hands as she giggles. When I look at the picture before posting it, I realize I’m staring at Samantha like— like— like she’s Sloane, and I’m Ferris.

I post it anyway.

**—**

Things are going just about perfect, right up until I fuck it up.

 

“Hey, Sam? Can you grab that box of movies that came in last night? Og just sent an email saying he wants them on shelves by this afternoon.” I send a quick reply back to Og, promising to get right on it. When I turn around, Samantha is standing there, box in her arms, eyes narrowed at me.

She lets me take the box from her and prop it in its usual spot on the stool. I unpack and do my typical stacking process, and once I make sure the titles and quantities are logged into our system, Samantha starts shelving them.

The entire time—the process takes upwards of an hour—she doesn’t say a single word to me.

That’s how I know I fucked up.

When Daito gets in to take over the floor, I finally have a chance to talk with Samantha. I catch her near the counter as she’s packing up to leave.

“Can we talk in the back?” I ask, nodding towards the door at the back of the store. Samantha’s eyes are still narrow, and she’s frowning. She turns on her heel and strides toward the back room, and I follow quickly. She lets the door shut behind her and it closes right in my face. I take a deep breath, then fumble with the doorknob to where she’s waiting.

“Talk.” She demands. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her foot is tapping impatiently. The motion bounces her bag against her thigh, a distracting and soft, _thud thud thud_.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask. No sense in beating around the bush. “You’ve been pissed at me all day, but I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Her nostrils flare, but her body almost seems to relax. The tight lines of her shoulders soften. Gritting her teeth, she says, “You called me _Sam_.”

I blink back at her. “I’m sorry?” The annoyed tension returns and I scramble to correct. “I mean, I _am_ sorry, I just… I didn’t know that wasn’t okay.”

Samantha chews her bottom lip for a few seconds. When she answers, her voice is crisp and sharp; not a _mean_ tone, but not exactly friendly either.

“I hate being called that, okay?”

“Got it,” I say. “Why, though?” It’s out of my mouth unthinkingly.

Samantha shakes her head and starts to walk towards me. She tries to push past me to get back out the door. “That’s not your business.”

“I-I’m… Samantha, I’m not trying to be a jerk.” I let her pass me and follow her back into the store. We don’t talk as we walk through the aisles, but once we’re outside she rounds on me.

“It’s none of your business, Wade! Just because you have a crush on me doesn’t mean you _have_ to know everything about me!”

I take a step back. “I never said—I wasn’t trying to…” I sputter for words. “Samantha, we’re _friends_. Friends tell each other stuff.”

“This isn’t something I want to tell you about.” The venom in her voice tapers off. “It’s just really personal, Wade, okay?” Her glare finally falls, and her eyes are wide, almost panicked.

I nod. “Got it,” I say again. “I’m sorry.” I wait a minute as Samantha opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“I’m sorry, too.” She tells me eventually. “I haven’t had anyone call me that in a while.” She explains quietly.

I still don’t totally understand, but I hold up my hands in surrender. “No worries. We good?” I put one hand forward for a fist-bump.

Looking tired, and faintly embarrassed, but no longer angry or annoyed, Samantha returns the gesture. “We’re good,” she agrees as her knuckles tap mine. “I really gotta get going. See you this weekend?”

I nod and watch her leave.

“What was that about?” Daito asks once I’m back inside. I wave off his concern, and busy myself for the rest of my shift with stocking shelves. I’m so distracted by my thoughts, I don’t even notice when my phone starts to go off in my back pocket.

I only notice it when a polite customer taps me on the shoulder and says, “Uh, sir? Your phone?”

I duck into the back to take the call without checking to see who it is. “Hello?”

_“I heard you fucked up.”_

I sigh. “Aech, it’s not funny.”

_“Not saying it is, dude. Was wondering if you wanted to come over and talk about it.”_

“Nah. I was out of line, Samantha set me straight. Sounds like she already talked to you about it anyway.” I know I sound a little petulant, but the tone happens before I can reign it in.

_“You are so dramatic, oh my god. She sent me a text, yeah, we talked about it. But_ you’re _my friend too, Wade. It’s not like I only get to listen to one of you at a time or some shit.”_

Adequately scolded, I apologize to Aech. She laughs it off, and demands I come over after my shift. I agree, and when I walk back onto the floor, I feel better than I did before.

**—**

Aech’s apartment door is unlocked when I get there, and she had texted me a little before saying to just let myself in. So that’s what I do. The first thing I see is Samantha sitting on Aech’s lumpy, secondhand couch.

Judging by how wide her eyes get, she wasn’t expecting to see me either.

She’s in the same cardigan she wore at work earlier; it’s a long one, but it’s a soft grayish-white. Underneath it is her Blondie tee, coupled with another pair of cuffed jeans (I have a theory that she doesn’t own any other kind). Her scuffed up converse tap silently against the carpet.

Aech walks in then, trademark Cheshire grin in place. I’ve never seen someone look more like the cat that got the canary.

“I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here.” She ushers me over to the couch and pushes me to sit on the cushion beside Samantha. “It’s just because you’re both idiots. And I _told_ you,” she points at me, “I didn’t want any drama with this.”

I nod, embarrassed.

“Now what do we have? Drama.” Aech sits in the equally uncomfortable recliner and steeples her fingers together. “You two are gonna talk this out, and neither of you can leave until it’s sorted. Got it?”

Samantha opens her mouth, but Aech speaks first. “I’m not hanging around, don’t you worry. I’ll be in my room with something loud on. Won’t hear a peep. One of you just come get me when you’re done.”

With that and an expectant glare, Aech stands again. I hold my breath until her bedroom door shuts. Samantha slowly turns to look at me, and I shrug helplessly.

“Sorry.” I say.

She finally cracks a grin. “It’s not your fault.” Then, “Well, it’s not _just_ your fault.”

I laugh, and the weight on my chest already feels lighter. The relief gives me a burst of courage, and I start talking before I can chicken out.

“I don’t think you owe me anything because of my crush on you,” I stumble over the admission, but keep going. “I didn’t ever want you to feel that way. I just—I didn’t know about the Sam thing, and I asked without thinking, and—?”

Samantha reaches over and lays a hand across mine. “Wade, it’s okay.”

My mouth shuts so quick and so hard, my teeth clack together.

“I overreacted, a little bit. Especially because you _didn’t_ know. That wasn’t fair to you.” Samantha shakes her head, as if scolding herself. “I want to tell you. Aech already knows, but that’s—that’s different.” Samantha pulls her hand back to run it a little frantically through her hair.

“You don’t have to,” I say.

“I know. I want to. I was just scared.”

I blink owlishly at her.

She laughs. “You’re probably wondering why I’d be scared.”

I nod slowly.

“Promise me this won’t change anything?”

I nod again. I’m starting to feel like a bobblehead toy, and I tell her as much. It wrings another laugh from her, and some of the tension looming overhead dissipates.

“The reason I don’t like being called ‘Sam’ is because it brings back some pretty bad memories, for me.” She takes a deep breath.

“My parents named me Sam, because I was supposed to be a boy. They kept calling me Sam, even when I told them I wanted to be called Samantha. So did people at school, and at jobs. It wasn’t until I moved here that it really, finally stopped.”

She looks up from her lap. “I’m trans.” She says it softly; she’s still scared.

I know my eyes widen, but I say, “Oh, okay. I didn’t realize.” And then I cringe at myself.

Samantha laughs, though. “I know. Pretty much no one knows, because that’s just not their business.” Her eyes bore into mine. “It’s also why I didn’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away. Even though I really did— _do_ like you.” A pretty blush stains her freckled cheeks.

“Really?” I’m kind of dumbfounded, and I know my mouth is probably gaping at least a little bit.

Samantha nods. “Really. I’d had some bad experiences before where guys thought they wanted to date me until… until I told them. And I’m not saying you’re like them, because you’re not, Wade. But I was still scared.”

“I understand,” I tell her. I frown. “Or, I guess I don’t. Because I don’t know what that’s like—but I get why you did it. It makes sense.” I take a risk and scoot a little closer on the couch. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Samantha lets out a relieved sigh, so loud and large almost like she’s been holding her breath, waiting for my response. “You’re absolutely positive?”

I grin back. “Positively absolutely.” I reach for her then, and take her hand. Our fingers entwine and I squeeze reassuringly. “So…” I trail off. “You have a crush on me too?” I tease.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “Seems like it.” She smiles down at our hands, then looks up at me.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and this time, none falls to hide her birthmark. I stare for a moment, because she’s finally letting me, and because I think it’s as beautiful as the rest of her. I lock eyes with her again, and she must see my answer in my eyes, because I don’t have to tell her what I think, what I feel.

“What do we do now?” She asks softly.

“Kiss, you idiots!” Aech’s voice carries from her room, even with the door shut.

We both burst into laughter. We fall against the couch and each other as the laughter eats up all the remaining tension. I feel practically weightless, in the best way. We’re so loud eventually Aech comes storming back into the living room.

“You’re interrupting my rom-com marathon,” she scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. I’m not totally sure if she was really eavesdropping or not; I figure it doesn’t really matter either way. “If you two have worked it all out, feel free to either join me, or finally go on a date _by yourselves_.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, since it’s probably pretty clear what we’re going to choose. Aech immediately heads back to her bedroom, and when I shout thanks after her, she just flips me off.

I stand and Samantha stands with me. We both pause for a moment and her gaze drops to my lips, and mine drops to hers. I tug on her hand and guide her to the front door, locking it as we go. Samantha shoots me a curious look but lets me lead her out of Aech’s apartment building, outside, and down the sidewalk.

“Alright, Wade, where are we going?” She asks. She doesn’t let go of my hand, and I feel like I could take on the world with her at my side. I grin over my shoulder at her and shrug.

“We don’t have to kiss somewhere insanely beautiful, you know.” She laughs as I continue to tug her along. “It’s a kiss, not a proposal!”

“I’m a romantic, so sue me,” I shoot back between chuckles. It doesn’t take us long to reach our destination, even if Samantha doesn’t know where we’re going. Once the sign of Oasis comes into view, Samantha makes a confused noise.

“It’s where we first met,” I explain as we come upon the door.

She rolls her eyes as we walk in. It’s empty inside, weirdly enough. There’s no customers, and no one at the counter. We share a surprised look, but I break into a grin.

“C’mon then, Romeo.” She urges, and now she’s tugging me to the counter.

We look around again, but no one pops out from the behind the counter. The bell above the door is still, and “Crimson and Clover” (the Joan Jett version) is filtering through the speakers. She presses close to me, and our hands finally untangle. Instead, I take her by the waist and she lay her hands on my shoulders.

“Romance me,” she teases.

I can’t find the words, so I finally lean in to kiss her, instead of making a joke or dorky reference. Samantha tilts her head up, and to the side so our noses don’t mash together. I can feel myself shaking and my palms sweating.

We’re a hairsbreadth away from each other when there’s a creak, and a soft gasp.

I look behind Samantha’s shoulder to see Og standing by the door to the backroom, slack-jawed. He grins and waggles his fingers in a sheepish wave.

“Hey kids!” He says.

Slowly, Samantha turns around. I can see the blush on her cheeks even when she’s not facing me, and it makes me feel better about my own burning face.

Og continues, “Jim and I were just dropping by real quick. We sent Daito home, thought we’d close up early.”

Samantha and I both nod.

“I guess Jim forgot to lock the door behind us, heh.” Og scratches at the back of his head. “Sorry to intrude.”

“Og? What’s going on?” Jim’s head pokes out from the door to the back. His crazy, curly hair is grayer than the last time I saw him, but he’s still wearing the same thick frame glasses. “Oh,” he says quietly when his eyes land on me and Samantha.

“We’re interrupting,” Og explains with a twinkle in his eye. “We were just about to leave. Can you two lock up?”

“Yeah, of course,” I say dazedly.

“Great!” Og claps his hands together. “Kira is waiting for us at home. We’ll be sure to flip the sign to closed as we go.” Og winks at us both, then turns to gesture Jim closer. “Come on, she’ll have our heads if we’re late.”

Jim nods and casts another cautious glance at me and Samantha. Slowly, he opens the door and slips out of the backroom. He’s in well-worn jeans and has a plaid shirt thrown over a faded Atari tee. He nods politely at us then hurries over to Og’s side. Og grins at him and sneaks a kiss to his cheek.

“Till next time, Wade, Samantha.” Og mimes a tipping of his hat before he and Jim walk in step back to the door. The bell chimes as they leave, along with a faint wisp of paper as they flip the sign.

After a few minutes, Samantha and I face each other again.

“That was awkward,” she says as she starts to laugh. “I didn’t think I’d ever actually meet them, honestly. They’re like—”

“Cryptids,” I finish. Samantha and I both end up braced against the counter as we laugh. Somehow we end up closer together, knees knocking and toes touching. Eventually our laughter tapers off, and she looks up at me again. “Still romantic?” I ask.

Samantha grins. “Very,” she says, before she reaches up and holds the back of my neck.

She tugs me close to her, and finally, _finally_ we kiss. Immediately my hands come up to cup her cheeks, and her hand on my neck tightens. We sigh together, and slowly pull back. I smile at her, and she smiles back.

I lean in to kiss her again when the bell chimes, and we both look over once more. Og is shuffling toward us, hands raised in apologetic surrender.

“Jim forgot his jacket in the back, I’ll be just a moment!” He ducks into the back and after a few seconds, comes back out with a jean jacket balled up in his grasp. “Really, so sorry.” He’s grinning, though, and I’m pretty sure he’s chuckling to himself. He waves as he leaves. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” Samantha and I chorus together. Once the bell has fallen silent and the door is shut, we fall against each other laughing yet again. Samantha tucks her face against my chest and I bury my face in her hair. It’s close and warm and I wonder if Samantha can hear my heart hammering underneath her.

Eventually, Samantha pulls back again and smiles up at me. “This was romantic Wade. I loved it.”

“I have good ideas, sometimes.”

She shakes her head fondly. It’s corny, but I take the moment to just stare into her eyes, and she lets me. If anything, I think she’s doing the same. After a few minutes of smiling, and staring, and laughing softly at each other, I realize the music is still playing overhead. Og and Jim must’ve left it on.

_“Modern love, walks beside me_ _—_ _Modern love, walks on by_ _—”_

“1975,” I say.

Smirking, Samantha replies, “EMI America Records.”

I kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> title, of course, comes from 'video killed the radio star' by the buggles (which, has anyone noticed what a good jim/ogden song?? my feels)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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